Memory
by whitelite
Summary: Getting her back was easy. Fixing her... not so much. Set after CoR.  Probably will end up RiddickKyra.
1. Chapter 1

(AN) I'm still figuring out where this is going, but I figured I'd post the first part, see if I could get some thoughts or suggestions from you guys.

"Do you want her back?"

He turned his gaze on the wispy Elemental, waited to see if it would make her uncomfortable. It didn't.

"What you talkin' about?"

"It's a simple question, Riddick. Do you want her back?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, acting bored. "Girl's dead."

"She doesn't have to stay that way."

He glanced at her again. She looked serious.

"I'm listening."

"The Underverse is real, Riddick. Since she converted, that's where she is. If I show you how to get there, how to get her out, will you help me repair the damage the Necromongers have done?"

He thought about it. She made it sound like Kyra was locked up someplace, like he just had to find her and retrieve her, as he had from Crematoria. It sounded like bullshit. Sounded like she was trying to play him.

But he did want her back.

"Bring her to life again, I'll play your politics. But if you try, and she don't live, I'll make what the Necros did before look freakin' merciful." He glanced at her again. This time she did look uneasy. "Still want a deal?"

She hesitated. He thought maybe he'd called her bluff. But finally she nodded. "Deal, Riddick."

X

The Necros were happy he was making a 'pilgrimage' to the Underverse. They were less pleased that he was dragging the whole fleet along with him. On Aereon's advice, he didn't mention that religion had nothing to do with this little trip.

This was about a girl. A girl who hated him, at least a little, but who loved him more. A girl who had thrown away a chance at happiness, security, for him. A girl who had molded herself into an animal, for him.

He spent a lot of time thinking about Crematoria. About risking his own ass to pull her from the sun. About the feel of her wrists as he spun her around, like an extension of his own body. He had never felt so connected to anyone as he had in that moment, with her as his shiv.

And then her death.

A few deaths had pissed him off before—Fry, Imam. But _her_ death brought something new.

Fury. Maybe the fury his race was named for. It burned—an actual, physical sensation. Usually, it stayed deep in his core. Sometimes, it flared up, consumed bones, tendons, muscles, blood, until it danced across his skin and he had to let it go. Luckily, there were several challenges to his rule. He destroyed them, burned them, took them apart piece by piece. Each time, he imagined she was there—that she was sitting on that damned throne, and he was laying the kill at her feet.

Dangerous thoughts. They reminded him too much of religion—a bloody offering to a broken goddess.

But they cooled the flames, at least temporarily. And 'dangerous' wasn't anything new to him, was it?

X

The Underverse was cold, and it didn't want him. It wanted its people dead and cold, just like it.

He stood, just on the wrong side of the Threshold, and felt the twisted 'verse around him do its best to tear him apart. It stole the heat of his body and crushed the air from his chest. This was the heaven Kyra had told him about?

He remembered the rapturous look that had been on her face when she had talked of the Underverse. Of conversion. Of looking into another man's eyes. That fury swelled, and suddenly he was plenty warm enough.

The Elemental had told him that to find her he'd need blood, and an object of hers. Something she'd had for a while. As for the blood, he didn't need much, and it didn't matter who it came from, as long as it was fresh. She hadn't said his blood would get more of a response than anyone else's, but knowing Kyra, he figured it would. So he pulled out her shiv, one she'd kept on her even after conversion, and made a long, shallow slice on the back of his wrist, well away from the artery and the larger veins.

Blood welled onto his skin. A few drops fell—they froze before they hit the ground.

"Kyra," he called, voice ringing in the silence. "Kyra. Come to me, Kyra."

Three times, just like Aereon told him.

They appeared out of nowhere, too many of them to count, using a purer form of the old Lord Marshall's astral projection. They stared at his blood as if it was the elixir of life. Maybe it was.

They moved closer, stiff and silent. One dead-eyed woman reached out to touch him. He stabbed her in the chest. She collapsed, body rotting as it fell. None of the others seemed to notice her. He pointed the shiv at them in warning—they didn't notice that, either.

There was a disturbance at the back of the crowd. As it came closer, he saw a dark haired woman pushing her way to the front. He smiled.

"Kyra," he greeted when she was close, but she was fixated on the blood, like all the others. She broke away from them and fell to her knees in front of him. He held out his hand. She took it in both of hers—freezing cold—and bent her head to lap gently at his wound. He let her drink, maybe for longer than he should have.

"Living blood," she whispered against his skin. "Living blood, to loosen our tongues and waken our memory." She looked up at him. "You did your homework, Riddick."

His blood dripped from her lips, down her chin. He wanted to kiss it off.

"Nah," he replied. "Just copied someone else's."

She smiled, and he pulled her to her feet. Riddick almost gave into temptation, but ended up wiping her face with his hand instead, and wiping his hand on his cargos rather than offering to let her lick it clean. He figured here wasn't the place.

The others were wandering off, seemingly aimless now. Kyra saw him look over her shoulder, guessed what he was wondering about.

"I've tasted you," she told him. "We don't share blood, so there's nothing for them here."

He turned back to her, smoothed down a flyaway strand of hair. "Why do I always get stuck haulin' your ass out of the fire?"

"Is that what you're doing here?"

"Maybe fire ain't the right word. It's fuckin freezing."

She surprised him by laughing. He paused just a second, thinking how many years it had been since he'd heard her give a real laugh.

"C'mon," he commanded.

"Where?"

"The real world," he told her. "Where'd you think?"

The words he had memorized reopened the Threshold. He took her wrist and pulled her through.

For a moment, they stood together on the bridge of his ship.

Then she gasped and stumbled. He grabbed her, and she turned wispy in his arms. She threw her arms around him, pulled so close he thought they'd meld together. Then she was gone.

"Kyra?" he whispered.

_"Here,"_ came her voice. He felt her in his skull, examining his desires, his fears, his rage. All the intimate corners of his mind laid bare to her. _"This is… different."_

"What happened?" he demanded.

_"Shouldn't have copied. In the real world, Riddick, people need bodies. Yours was closest. Do you still have mine, or do I get to stay here?"_

"I got it," he muttered.

Aereon was standing next to him, eyes narrowed. "Where is she?"

"Here," he said, and fisted a hand over his chest. Then he started walking, with the Elemental floating beside him and a few guards following at a respectful distance.

He'd kept her body in cryo, in his chambers. Maybe it sounded sick, but who gave a fuck? Wasn't like he'd kept her in his bedroom.

_"Considered it though, didn't you?"_ she whispered.

"Fuck off," he growled, and she laughed again.

He wondered why she could read his mind and he couldn't read hers. Just a stray thought, and suddenly she was an open book. As he walked, he tried to sort through the visions he pulled from her. He saw himself, felt the small shock she got every time she saw his eyes. He saw Gov, who she liked, as much as she liked anyone. He tasted the tea she'd drunk her first night in Crematoria, spiced with blood from a split lip. He felt her hymen torn apart as she was raped…

_"Stop!"_ she shrieked. _"Leave it alone, Riddick. Leave it the hell alone."_

He left it alone. Put his palm to the lock on his door. Aereon followed him inside; the guards knew better. He went to her. In his head, Kyra was momentarily thrown by the sight of the corpse.

He hesitated then, not sure how to go about transferring her.

"I believe you'll need to touch her," Aereon murmured.

Riddick considered, then leaned over and kissed the girl's open mouth. Her lips were cold, though not as cold as her hands had been in the Underverse.

_"I ain't sleeping beauty."_

He ignored her and reached for her shiv. "Livin' blood, Kyra? That what you want?"

He flicked his tongue against the blade, tasted the copper that filled his mouth. Then he kissed her again.

Her presence was gone from his head. He frowned.

Then, she swallowed. A second later, she took a deep breath.

X

She slept. He didn't like it, but she was alive, so it was okay. He held her, just held her, for hours, breathing in the scent of her hair, her skin. Listening to her lungs working. He kept two fingers at her neck, feeling her pulse. They had her hooked up to all sorts of monitors, just in case. But it was steady.

Weeks passed, as they returned to Helion. She didn't wake. They fed her through a tube, told him that it was 'not entirely unexpected', whatever the fuck that meant. Told him all they could do was wait. Told him 'more knowledgeable' doctors would be waiting when they landed.

He didn't really trust them, didn't know what to do. He checked on her often, though it didn't seem to make a difference. It was more for his benefit than hers, honestly.

Every time he was there, he ignored the machines, checked her pulse himself. It stayed steady.

X

_Death sucked. But then, what didn't?_

_She knew she'd died._

_Sometimes she knew._

_But if she'd died, why was she lying in the sand, in the sun? She knew that if there was an afterlife, she'd spend it in Hell. So why was she back on Helion Prime?_

"_What's out there, that you wanna leave so bad?" asked the boy beside her. Fouad. Her friend, her companion for the short time she would remain here. Maybe her boyfriend, if she had been able to get her head out of the stars. Maybe her lover, husband someday, if she had stuck around._

_He had let her know he was interested. Accepted her rebuke with dignity. Let her know that he would wait, in his quiet, dedicated way, and that when she was ready he would be there. In the meantime, they could be friends._

_Except Jack would die under a merc long before she was ready for him._

"_Do you even know what you're looking for, Jack?" he asked, and she realized she'd been silent for a long time._

_She rolled onto her side, gaze on his face. Studied him._

"_This isn't real," she whispered._

_He grinned, anticipating one of her schemes, her crazy, brilliant ideas._

"_So what __**is**__ real?" _

_She hesitated, glanced at the sky. Wondered if it might reach down to consume her._

_Wondered if she was losing it._

_She didn't care—she'd enjoy this while she could._

"_Let's find out."_

X

She was staring straight at him, but she didn't see him. It pissed him off--he'd gone to Hell and back for her, the _least_ she could do was meet his eyes.

"What's wrong with her?" Riddick asked, staring at the girl strapped to the hospital bed.

"Hallucinations," the doctor replied. "That's why she's restrained. She's shown a tendency toward violence."

Riddick snorted. Kyra, violent? No shit. "But why's she hallucinatin'?"

"The human brain is a delicate thing. It, more than any other part of us, is _not_ meant to die and be brought back. Hallucinations are her mind's way of trying to puzzle out the impossible."

"So why ain't I like this?"

The man shrugged. "Most likely because you didn't actually… die."

Riddick glanced at him. The doctor, an Elemental Aereon had sent for, was supposed to be one of the best in the galaxy. He sounded out of his depth.

"Why couldn't this have waited?" he asked, thinking of the ambassadors he'd been meeting with. They were probably using the extra time to figure out how to put a knife in his back.

Doc looked apologetic. "She was lucid when she first woke. Asked for you. But you didn't get here in time."

"Fuck," Riddick muttered. Story of his life, right there. He was too late, always too fuckin' late.

Or maybe it was the story of her life.

That last thought didn't sit quite right. So he pushed it to the back of his head, and left.

X

_There was screaming, all around her. It echoed in her ears, her throat. She could feel the vibrations in her hands and her feet._

_There was blood, raining from the sky. It ran over her skin, got in her eyes. It was warm. Not scalding hot, not icy cold—just pleasantly warm._

_She was curled in a ball on the ground. Deafened by screams. Soaked in blood._

_It was daytime. The blood-clouds made it overcast, but there was light. She was on a grass covered hill. The grass was alive and very, very green._

_But that made sense, didn't it? Blood made the grass grow. Blood made the sun shine and the planet turn and the grass grow, grow, grow, grow…_

_She couldn't tell where the screams were coming from, but they seemed to have a rhythm to them. Unpredictable, elusive, but she swore it was there. She got to her feet, focusing on the sounds. They filled her, and she let them. They moved her, and she let them. And suddenly she realized she was dancing to the sound of agony._

_But she didn't want to stop._

_She wouldn't stop…_

X


	2. Chapter 2

_When she did something, she __**did**__ it, with intensity and focus many found surprising. That was how she'd passed herself off as a boy so convincingly. That was how she'd managed to learn so much from Riddick in the time he gave her_. _That was how she'd shed Jack, made herself Kyra._

_She was focused now. Both of her._

_She wasn't quite sure if Kyra was trying to teach Jack, or kill her._

_She wasn't sure which she was—she kept switching perspectives._

_Either way, Kyra was kicking Jack's ass._

_She was Jack. It was dark. Not eclipse dark, just shadowy. It made her edgy. She knew she was outclassed in this fight, and that made her edgier. She was getting tired, but she couldn't stop, could she? Not this time. This wasn't like the practice rounds she'd gone against Riddick, with him holding everything back so she could __**almost**__ win._

_She saw a fist, and blocked it, but then a heel came out of nowhere, and she was flying. She hit the ground hard on her shoulder, rolled, and staggered to her feet._

_She was Kyra. She watched as the girl stumbled, desperately searching for the next attack. All defense—the kid didn't even try to move on her._

_"Clumsy," she said, and hit her. "You're a clumsy little bitch."_

_Jack punched at her. She blocked, easy._

_"You're overreaching. Stay balanced, for fuck's sake."_

_Her right hook caught the girl in the face. She backed up, looking dazed, and spat out blood. Kyra didn't press the advantage—she didn't need it. And she didn't want to end this so soon. She didn't know what she'd do when she had her down._

_"Really think you're something…"_

_She was Jack. She shook her head, trying to clear it, wondering what the woman was waiting for._

_"…doncha?" _

_"What?" she gasped. She grimaced at the taste of blood, then ran her tongue over the cuts in her cheek. They felt pretty deep, like they'd keep bleeding for awhile. Great._

"_You think just cause Riddick taught you a few tricks, you're hot shit. That's a wrong thought, and a stupid one, and it's what's gonna get your ass killed."_

"_I ain't dead yet," she snarled._

_Something passed through the other woman's eyes. It looked almost like regret. But that couldn't be right._

_She was Audrey. She huddled in a corner, hoping that if she wasn't seen, she wouldn't be hurt._

"_Yes, Jack," she heard. "Oh yes, you are."_

X

He was caring for a miracle. In his years as a doctor, he had seen incredible things, but nothing, nothing, compared to the girl.

She was beautiful.

In the traditional sense, of course, of a man looking at an attractive female. But that was just an observation, and he wouldn't be much of an observer if he hadn't figured out that Lord Riddick would kill any man who even considered touching her. Above and beyond that, she was his patient. He would _never_ be so unprofessional.

No, that wasn't the beauty that captivated him. (And yes, she did _captivate_ him.) It was the fact that… even broken as she was, she shone. She had been dead, and now she was so, so alive.

He liked to listen to her as she spoke with the specters her crippled mind conjured. She was abrasive, defensive, vulgar, and, assuming she could normally make good on even a few of those threats, terrifying. She was passionate, inventive, oddly sweet.

He did not believe in God, but she was a miracle, and he believed in her.

He was losing his objectivity, and it bothered him. He needed to be objective, because he didn't know if there was anything more he could do.

Or so he told himself. The truth was, his objectivity was long gone, and he would _find_ something to do. He would fix her. Heal her, so the miracle could be complete.

She deserved true life.

X

_She sipped her tea and watched Gov watch her._

"_Who'd ya kill now?" he asked._

"_Ray."_

"_The rat," he muttered under his breath. "Gonna tell me why?"_

_She shrugged and smiled. "Why not?"_

_She knew he liked her, as much as any of them liked anyone. She knew he respected her. She also knew that something about her age, her gender, her beauty, didn't sit right with him. Especially when she went all psycho-killer and shit._

_When she'd first arrived, he'd tried, in his way, to shelter her. He'd soon learned she didn't need or want it. Wasn't willing to pay for it, either, and everything here had a cost. Now he just brought her tea occasionally, and she paid in civil conversation._

"_You 'member that talk we had when ya first showed up? Bout doing the guard's work for 'em?"_

"_The Rat was a rat," she told him._

_He sat back, relaxed a bit. "No shit?"_

"_Umm-hmm. He told them I did Tamer."_

_He hadn't had a problem with Tamer—but then, he'd been a guard, and a sick bastard on top of it._

"_Fucker." _

_She wasn't sure if he was talking about Tamer or Ray, but she nodded. Didn't matter, really—the description fit both._

_That was enough explanation for him—the conversation moved on to other areas. He was hungry, today. He told her about the steak he would grill for himself if he could. She described for him the exotic, addictive spices of New Mecca. It was easy, light talk—strange, here—that lasted as long as her tea._

_When she'd drained the last drops, he held out his hand for the cup. She gave it to him, and he stood. For a moment, he stayed right there, studying her. She returned the scrutiny. This was breaking their pattern._

"_Look," he told her. "You like blood. Hell, maybe ya even need it. I get that."_

_She wanted to laugh at him, but figured she may as well let him finish. She liked the tea._

_He continued, "Take it. Enjoy it. Just, don't get it from us cons less ya got a damn good reason. A'ight?"_

_She didn't laugh then, but she smirked a little. "Sure thing, Gov."_

_It had been a serious question, and despite the amusement, she'd given a fairly serious answer. She guessed he knew that, because he left._

X

She'd been surprised to find that her goals and Riddick's were essentially the same. They had different motivations—she was working for balance, he was after some sort of revenge, but it came to the same the in the end. She thought it worked well. Aereon was a firm believer in the ends justifying the means.

Also surprising, they worked well together. She'd earned his respect by getting him to the Underverse and back; he'd won hers in his dealings with the Necros. She wasn't afraid of his blades; he didn't give a shit—his words, not hers—about her politics. It was… refreshing, for both of them.

Aereon shook her head, glancing at the latest complaint from the Company representative. In writing this time, as if that would make more of an impact on the reluctant Lord Marshall. No matter _what_ she did, she couldn't convince him to give discretion a try. He was always blunt, always cut straight to the chase. It meant she spent a lot of time cleaning up his messes. Somehow, though, he usually made progress.

"Aereon." The voice was deep, but she knew immediately it wasn't Riddick—he'd taken to calling her 'Wispy'. She wasn't entirely sure he knew her real name—he'd certainly never used it.

She turned, and there was Vaako, less than a meter away. She suddenly regretted refusing the guard Riddick had offered.

"May I speak with you?" he asked, solemn as always. She wondered what he would do if she said no.

_Riddick's been a bad influence on me_, she thought, amused. _I'll have to watch that_.

"Of course," she answered with a polite smile. "What about?"

"The Lord Marshall." He—Vaako the Stoic—actually shifted uncomfortably. That, more than anything, made her wary.

"What about him?"

"He's not a Necromonger," the man bit out. "He hasn't been converted, _he's not one of us_. The Underverse should have destroyed him."

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked. "You think I don't know what your faith says should have happened?"

"I don't know what I have faith in anymore," he snarled, and it sounded like he was choking on disillusionment.

Aereon frowned. _Seems I've miscalculated this one…_

"But I know the Underverse does exist, and he's been there, and… he read my mind today, Aereon."

She laughed. "Riddick's got a lot of tricks, but I'm afraid telepathy is not one of them."

"And our lately lamented lord didn't know astral projection from porn vids before he returned from the Underverse," he snapped.

Despite the situation, she felt her lips twitch. Perhaps she wasn't the only one Riddick was corrupting.

"Lord Vaako--"

"Don't. Just listen. I was... thinking about my wife. Wondering how to get her to stop—with the plotting and the manipulation and the power lust. He did that half laugh thing of his, and told me, 'That one'll stop plotting when her heart stops beating. Maybe.' He just said it casual, like I'd said something out loud."

Her eyebrows went up. "Are you sure you didn't?"

The dark look he shot her spoke for itself. Aereon shook her head and wondered if it could be true.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked again.

He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "He's dangerous. To my way of life. And to yours. I tell you, and not another Necromonger, because my people already follow him. They'd see this as a sign—that the Underverse has blessed him, that he's meant to lead us. You're not like us. And you calculate, you plot more than my Dame—but for different reasons. Just… watch him, please? There's no telling what he'll do, left unchecked."

He has no idea how true that last statement was. There was never any telling with Riddick. But how to check a Furyan?

She knew one way, of course. A dangerous, near suicidal way, but the only reliable way she'd heard of to control a bonded Furyan. She'd already done it once, in a way, but if she tried it again it would have to be different. Hostile.

"It's hard to trust," she said, "when you spend so much time calculating the odds of betrayal. Of course I watch him."

She didn't want to do it again. She liked him. Perhaps more significant, she thought she would like _her_. If she were sane.

She would do what was necessary, as she had always done. But she would work very hard to ensure it never came to _that_.

X

The com unit on his wrist buzzed. _Break time's over_, he thought.

"Yeah?"

"_She's lucid."_

He ran.

Pounding through the corridors, shoving people out of his way if they didn't move on their own. It wasn't a long run by his usual standards, but it felt like a thousand years.

The doc met him at the door. "I don't know how long this will last--"

"Then I'll talk to her _now_," he snapped, pushing past him too.

And there she was. _Kyra_.

"Riddick," she said.

He shoved his goggles up on his forehead and locked his gaze on hers.

After a moment, she jerked her arms against the restraints. "Think you could give me a hand?"

He crossed the room and lent her a hand, letting his fingers linger on her skin as he undid the bonds.

"How ya feelin'?" he asked. He thought she looked pale—but of course she did. _"…they tell you you'll never see daylight again…"_ When was the last time she had been in the sun? He'd have to take her out.

She shrugged. "Alive." She glanced around. "The real world and I don't get along too well, do we?"

"You're a fuckin' idiot," he snarled abruptly. She gave him a questioning look. "Dying for me doesn't make you with me, it makes you _gone_."

She snorted at him. "I didn't mean to die for you, I meant to kill the fucker hurting you. You done it for me 'nough times."

"Didn't work out like that."

"No." She looked away. "You know, Riddick, I don't wanna die… but if I gotta, I think dying for you's the way to go."

He slid his hand up the back of her neck, tangled his fingers in her hair, and gripped the base of her skull in his palm. _Damn…_ He leaned down and pulled her forehead against his.

"I'd rather have you kill for me," he whispered.

Then he kissed her. She didn't hesitate, just opened her mouth for him.

She was warm again. So damn warm.

He let go, intending to put his arms around her waist and keep on going, but she pulled back.

"Kyra…" he breathed. He sounded a bit drunk.

She didn't answer. He blinked and focused on her face. She was wearing a soft smile. Her eyes were looking past him. He tore away from her, and she didn't react.

"_Fuck_!" he snarled, and lashed out. Some medical shit crashed to the floor.

The doc came running, went straight to Kyra, as if he weren't even in the room. Riddick growled when he put his hands on her. His girl didn't respond. Neither did the man by her bed. Riddick turned and left, to keep from snapping the bastard's neck. '_Don't know how long this will last. Don't know how long this will last'. But you knew it __**wouldn't. **_He focused as much as he could on the doctor. It helped keep that damned dreamy smile out of his head. If he let himself, he'd start to wonder. And one thing for sure, he didn't want to know whose lips she thought she'd tasted.

X

"_Let me get this straight," he murmured while she was still reeling from his mouth. "You're offering to fuck me if I kill this guy for the Holy Man?"_

"_You'd be doing the whole 'verse a favor, not just Imam," she told him. "But yeah, that's about right."_

_His eyes burned as he studied her. She wanted to reach for him, but made herself hold still as his hands glided over her thighs, paused for a moment to grip her hips. She bit her lip as they continued up her torso, and, just for an instant, cupped her breasts._

_Then he released her and stepped back._

"_No."_

_She blinked, waiting for her fevered brain to catch up. "No?"_

"_No," he repeated, in his No Arguments tone. "I'm not gonna let you make yourself my whore."_

"_You don't want me?" she asked, honestly shocked. She hadn't thought you could fake a kiss like that._

"_Didn't say that." Silver eyes bored into her skin. "What I said was, I'm not gonna let you sell yourself. If I fuck you, girl, it'll be 'cause there's nothing else in the verse you want more than me inside you."_

_She took a slow, deep breath. Her voice was still weak when it came out._

"_When." The eyebrow went up, so she clarified, "When. Not if."_

_His eyes flared, and he smirked at her. "Yeah. You just tell me when."_


	3. Chapter 3

_She lay in the dark, tossing and turning. It wasn't her usual insomnia—tonight, she was too excited to sleep. She __**hoped**__ tomorrow wouldn't be the happiest day of her life, hoped it would continue to go up from here, but she thought it would probably be up there. If everything went well. Which she wasn't going to let herself worry about._

_She shook her head, knowing there was a silly grin on her face and not caring. There was no one to see it, was there? She could look as silly as she wanted._

_She was starting to think she should take something to help her sleep. She didn't want to be exhausted tomorrow, of all days. She sat up, felt a breeze from the balcony._

_From the balcony door she had shut before bed._

_Someone was in her apartment. Someone was in her __**bedroom.**_

_She slipped back down on the bed, reaching for the blade she still kept under her mattress. Just last month, Fouad had suggested it was time to leave that part of her life behind. In most ways, she had done so. Now she was glad she hadn't managed it completely. _

"_That really necessary, Jackie girl?"_

_She froze, wondering if she'd managed to fall asleep after all. That voice was nothing more than a memory—she __**couldn't**__ actually be hearing it now._

"_Lights dim," she whispered._

_And there he was, all hard planes and graceful lines. His glowing eyes still caught her breath. He didn't seem to have changed at all in the four years since she had last seen him—hell, in the nine years since she had first met him._

"_Riddick," she muttered, and set the shiv on the dresser. She didn't __**think**__ she was dreaming. She hadn't dreamed about him in a long, long time._

_He came and sat beside her on the bed and studied her. She met his gaze at first, but soon turned away._

"_I missed you," he rumbled, tangling his fingers in her curls._

_Then he was kissing her and for a moment she let him, because it was Riddick. Just a moment, and then she pulled away. _

_**Damn, does he know how to make an entrance**__, she thought. __**Too bad it's years too late**__. There wasn't much regret attached to the musings. Riddick had been her fantasy, but she had reality now, and was happy with it._

"_Jack?" One hand was massaging her scalp, the other stroking her arm. She moved farther away, until his hands fell to his sides. _

"_Did you really think we could pick up where we left off?" she demanded. "After four years? I'm not seventeen anymore."_

"_I know you're not." He sighed. "You're still pissed I left again."_

"_I am not still--" _

_His raised eyebrow conveyed more skepticism than words ever could._

_She shook her head. "Fine, I am still a bit annoyed about that, but it doesn't __**matter**__ anymore. Look—remember that talk we had, right before you left?"_

_He smirked, and it was achingly familiar, even after all this time. "You mean the one where I explained the situation logically, and you screamed at me?"_

"_You remember any of my words, or just the volume they were delivered in?"_

_He chuckled. "As I recall, there was some real creative cussing…"_

"_I said I wouldn't wait for you this time," she cut in flatly._

_Beside her, he went perfectly still, and she thought he might be beginning to understand._

"_What are you getting at, babe?"_

_She didn't want to meet his eyes while she told him this, but for some reason she felt like she owed it to him._

"_I'm getting married tomorrow."_

"_Who is he?" he growled, and she shivered. The last time she had heard that tone of voice was just before he had killed the Necro holding her hostage._

"_Don't do anything stupid, Riddick."_

"_**Who?**__"_

_She bit her lip, a bit nervous. "Fouad."_

"_Fouad." Still that dangerous tone. "I remember him. You'd take that skinny little prick over me?"_

"_You weren't __**there**__, Riddick. And now… it's too late. My heart's already his."_

"_Last time we met, you swore it was mine."_

"_And last time we met, you threw it at my feet."_

"_Never. I did what I had to, to protect what was mine."_

"_I am not a fuckin' possession!"_

_He stood abruptly, strode across the room, slammed his hand into the wall. _

"_You know that's not what I meant." He took a deep breath, continued, "You really think he could love you the way I do? You think anyone could? Damn it, Jack, do you have any idea what I'd do for you? What I already have done? How many people I've killed?"_

_She swallowed. "You'd kill on a whim."_

_He shot her a glare she knew would have frozen anyone else in their tracks. "Yeah. Yours." _

_There was silence for a moment. Then she snorted._

"_Look," she snapped. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. But I love him. And yes, he loves me. Not the way you do—he doesn't disappear for __**years**__ then show up in the middle of the night expecting me to worship the ground he walks on. No, he's never killed for me, but he's trustworthy, Riddick. Dependable. And yeah, I'd pick him over you. Matter of fact, that's what I'm doing. Real shocker, huh?"_

_She'd barely finished speaking when he slammed out of the room, and a minute later out of her apartment._

_She sat for a moment, then shook her head, relocked the balcony door, and took the sleeping pills._

_In the morning, she thought maybe she had been dreaming. She stepped out into the sunlight and grinned. She knew she was making the right choice, if even in fantasies she preferred Fouad._

_Lajjun was helping her dress when the doorbell rang. They sent Ziza to get it._

_The girl, newly turned nine, scampered back a moment later. "Package for you, Jack."_

_She got up and signed for it, bringing it back to the table. There was a card attached to the top—she tore it open first._

_**His heart**__, she read, __**since you're so sure it's yours. Enjoy your wedding.**_

_Frowning, she cut open the box, flipped off the lid._

_And screamed. And screamed._

X

She woke sobbing. There was a strange man beside her bed. She tried to lash out at him but her arms were restrained.

"Shh," he murmured. "Shh. It's all right, Kyra."

Hearing her own name on his lips, she remembered him. The doctor. The one who'd told her she was having mental issues. The one who had called Riddick.

Thinking of Riddick, she whimpered.

"Try to calm down," the doc said. "You're hyperventilating."

"Is this real?" she gasped.

"Yes," he assured. "This is real."

Her gaze tore around the room.

_Could it be?_

_Is Fouad?_

_Riddick?_

Had the two ever even met?

She glanced down at her hands and started to shake.

"If this is real, where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"The blood," she snarled. "It's supposed to be on my hands. Where is it?"

"I wouldn't leave you lying there with blood all over," he told her soothingly. "It's not sanitary."

"No!" she shrieked. "No! Where is it? _Where is it?_"

He grabbed her shoulders, pushed her back against the bed. "Stop. You're going to hurt yourself."

She tried to bite him.

"Please. I don't want to sedate you."

"_Where is it?_"

She saw the needle coming, and strained away from it. Bound as she was, she couldn't go far.

X

_She lived in death._

_She had died in life. Now, she lived in death._

_It hurt. It hurthurthurthurt…._

_Imam had been right after all. There was a God. And there most defiantly was a Hell._

_And she was burning._

_**This is what he tried to protect me from**__, she realized. __**This is why he was always after me to pray and confess and redeem my fuckin' soul.**_

_It hurt to know it was too late. She hoped that wherever he was, he couldn't see her suffering. He'd blame himself. He'd feel guilty and sorrow and it wasn't his fault at all._

_Every wound inflicted on her in life came back to her now. She tried to scream, but this was not the physical plane, and she had no body._

_The lungs she didn't have burned._

_Then it was gone._

_She could feel something building. Something worse._

_Agony._

_Every wound, every wound, every wound she had doled out returned to her, their Maker, the Creator of Destruction._

_She had hurt so many, and shit, payback was a bitch._

_**Everything's a bitch**__, she thought, because somehow she could still think. But of course she could. What was the point of damnation if she wasn't lucid to enjoy it?_

_**Life's a bitch. And then you die.**_

_**And death's a bitch too…**__ she mused with something almost like humor._

_**And I'm sorry, Holy Man, but so is your God**_

X

"There's a treatment I want to try," the doctor told him. "I think it will help her."

"Yeah?" Riddick replied. "What is it?"

"A drug cocktail made up mostly of propranolol and endurol. Beta-blockers. Memory altering drugs."

"You wanna fuck with her memory?" Riddick asked. "What good will that do?"

"Think of it like… rebooting a computer. There's nothing physically wrong with her brain—it's the trauma of _experiencing_ death and… new life that's doing this to her. If we get rid of that, give her a clean slate, so to speak…"

Riddick tensed. "You're not talking about just altering her memories. You wanna _erase_ 'em."

The other man shrugged. "Effectively, yes."

"No." He stood, started to walk away. "Fuck, no."

"_Riddick_," the doctor snapped.

He paused, surprised at the heat in the man's usually impassive voice.

"I have done everything else I can. This is her only chance."

He spun and slammed the fucker against the wall, shiv to his throat. "No. You will not erase me. You will _not_ take her from me."

He dropped the other man—he stumbled and slipped to the floor. Then Riddick crouched down beside him.

His voice was soft and hard. "Find. Another. Way."

(AN) According to my googling, propranolol and endurol are beta-blockers that are currently being used in experiments aimed at developing memory altering drugs. I am not a doctor, and not sure what the details of this are.

Thanks to everyone who reveiwed!


	4. Chapter 4

He was hearing whispers. That wasn't new—in fact, he couldn't remember when exactly the voice had first sounded in his brain. He knew how people would react to that little piece of truth, so he didn't talk about it much. The last time he had it had been to Fry, with little Jack listening in from the stairwell.

That voice, those whispers, didn't bother him. Riddick had always recognized them as coming from another place within himself. They were part of him, and they helped keep him alive.

But now he was hearing more voices, and they defiantly were _not_ him. He was starting to wonder if he might finally be going crazy for real. No matter where he went on the ship, he heard them. Sometimes they were almost at a conversational level, but most times he could barely make them out. Sometimes he could tell they belonged to the people around him, and sometimes he wasn't even sure they were human. He discovered they were quietest when he was alone, but that was a rare luxury these days. And even when he managed it, all he had to do was open a door to run into someone looking for him.

He knew many of the Necros had expected the Underverse to drive him insane. He had thought he had proven them wrong, but maybe they would get the last laugh after all. He considered just up and leaving—that had always been his solution in the past. The Necros would come after him, as would Wispy, and probably the rest of the known universe as well. But maybe if he left, the Underverse would lose its grip on him. Maybe those damn voices would be silenced for good.

He turned the idea over in his head, but found himself dismissing it quick. It would mean leaving Kyra—he couldn't cure her himself, and he wouldn't be able to take the doctor and all his shit along for the ride. Besides, there was Ziza to think about, and her mother. He had finally managed to track them down, and brought them to Necropolis. He wanted them out of harm's way for the Holy Man's sake, and it was safer for them here. That would change real quick if he left.

Ziza reminded him so much of Jack, sometimes he wanted to throw her in a cage, lock her up tight so no one could get at her, so she couldn't do anything crazy. So she would never lose that dumb ass hero worship, never feel blood on her fingers, never, ever say she didn't care if she died, even if it was a fucking joke.

Ziza, Lajjun, a strange sense of duty to the Elemental, and of course, Kyra. Always Kyra. Riddick swore under his breath. After all those years dodging the shackles others wanted to put him in, he'd gone and slapped them on his own wrists.

Just too damn perfect—the bastard upstairs must have been getting a good laugh out of this one.

Riddick rubbed the back of his neck, wishing the whispers would stop for just a few fucking minutes. They were giving him a bitch of a headache.

X

Lord Vaako watched, eyes narrowed, as the Lord Marshall argued with a representative from Helion 4. The man was distracted. Not to the point where the woman debating with him would notice, but Vaako had been observing Riddick for months. Something was wrong.

"Look," Riddick snapped, "We don't have the damn resources for what you're asking. It won't work. Get the fuck over it, and figure something else out."

The politician stalked off, offended.

_She's not going to let this go,_ Vaako thought. _It's going to cause problems_.

"I know," Riddick grumbled.

Vaako wasn't sure if the Lord Marshall was responding to his servant's thoughts or his own. But Riddick wasn't normally the type to talk to himself.

Vaako muttered an excuse and left the room. He ignored the greetings of the people he passed, working to put as much space as possible between him and his Lord.

X

_The door slammed shut. She lay on the bunk, curled into a ball because it kept her the tiniest bit warmer. They'd taken the sheets, and the mattress was sticky against her bare skin. She wasn't crying. She'd only cried once, the first time._

_This one had knocked her around more than most before he got down to it. She would have to get up soon and try to stretch out the stiffness he had put in her limbs. Experience told her that if she didn't, she would barely be able to move in the morning. Just a few more minutes, then she would get down to it._

_She'd stopped hoping that Riddick would come for her, even if he somehow knew she was missing. Her faith in him had always been more fragile than she'd made out. She remembered that boulder rolling across the little cave's entrance. She had been the first to speak, and her words had been, "He's not coming back, is he?"_

_She still wasn't sure why he __**had**__ come back for them. Probably because of something Fry did. Or offered to do. Riddick was a man, after all. She knew far more than she wanted to about what motivated men._

_She banished the thoughts and uncurled, moving to the floor. She started slow and easy, working her way to more advanced stretches. She couldn't do half as much as she normally could. _

_The door unlocked, and she froze. It wasn't feeding time, not anywhere near, and there was only one reason anyone would come in when it wasn't feeding time. Dammit, they usually gave her time to recover._

_The door slid open, revealing a familiar form. For a second, she couldn't place it, it was so unexpected._

"_Riddick?" she whispered, getting to her feet._

"_Shoulda stayed with the Holy Man," he said, moving forward._

_She grinned. It felt strange—these were muscles she hadn't stretched in a long, long time._

"_It is you!"_

_He didn't respond, but came the rest of the way into the room. The door slid shut behind him. _

"_Lights dim," he said. Then he pushed his goggles onto his head. Those stunning eyes traveled over her, drinking in her naked, bruised flesh. Her smile faded. _

"_Riddick?" she whispered._

_He moved, breathtakingly fast. Before she could react he had knocked her to the floor, his hips grinding into hers, a rough hand around her throat. _

"_Coming after me was real stupid," he said, hot breath tickling her ear. "But I guess I ain't complaining."_

_She struggled against him, then froze when she felt something hard jabbing her hip. She was turning him on._

"_Hope you're as good as advertised, kid," he growled. "You don't come cheap."_

X

"Doc?" she whispered.

He turned to see if she was addressing him.

She had tears in her eyes. "Doc? If this is real, fix me, doc. Dammit, fix me or kill me."

"I'm doing what I can," he lied. "It's good to see you lucid. Let me call Riddick."

"_No_!"

He frowned and stepped closer, trying to be comforting. "No what? No Riddick? He really wants to see you, Kyra."

"No, no," she pleaded. "No Riddick. Please, no."

He stared at her, honestly shocked. In all this time, through all the horrors she had endured, he had never heard her beg.

A whimper. "No, no, no…"

"Fine," he agreed. "Fine. I won't call him. Try to calm down, alright? I won't call him."

She took a shaky breath and nodded. "Can you fix me?"

He hesitated, then thought, _To hell with it._ He was a doctor, and his duty was to his patient, not her psychopathic… friend? Lord? Lover? Whatever he was.

"There is one thing we haven't tried yet," he said slowly. "Riddick forbade it."

Her jaw clenched at the name. "Why?"

"Because the odds are good that it would erase your memory."

She made a harsh, desperate sound. It took him a moment to figure out that it was a laugh.

"So the fuck what?" she demanded. "What the hell would I want my fuckin' memories for?"

"Because--" he started, but she cut him off.

"You got any damn idea what those precious memories are even _of_?"

"Yes," the doctor answered. "Him."

She froze, staring into space.

"Kyra?" he asked, hoping he hadn't lost her.

"Do it," she commanded. Her quiet voice held same steel Riddick's had when he gave the opposite command.

"Are you sure?"

"_Do it_," she snarled.

He nodded. He had prepared the drugs before talking to the Lord Marshall, and put them in the cooler after. Now, he took them out. He felt her eyes on him as he slipped the iv into her arm and hooked them up.

It occurred to him that this might be committing suicide. But the thought flew out of his head when he looked at his _patient_ and saw the naked relief on her face. He was a doctor—he had taken an oath. No one, not even the Riddick, would make him break it.

X

"Why did you call me?" Aereon asked as she studied the woman asleep in the bed.

"I think Riddick is going to kill me," the doctor answered.

The air Elemental frowned, turning to look at him. "Why would he do that? You're caring for his girl."

"And doing a better job of it than he wants me to."

Aereon paused, worried about the implications _that_ statement could hold.

"What exactly does that mean?" she asked.

"He wouldn't let me cure her."

Wouldn't let him cure her? The Furyan wanted nothing more in the verse than for Kyra to be whole.

"That doesn't sound like Riddick."

The doctor sighed, and elaborated. Aereon listened with growing dismay.

"You're telling me that when she wakes up, she won't know who he is?"

"Yes."

"You idiot," she snapped.

"She asked me for it."

"She must not have understood. _Dammit_."

The doctor jumped—he had probably never heard her swear. She herself couldn't remember the last time she had done so.

"She must have been lucid, to be able to ask you. Why didn't you call Riddick? Those were your instructions. The _first_ thing you're supposed to do was call him."

"She begged me not to. Begged, Aereon. What would you have done? Handed her over to him?"

The Elemental closed her eyes. Things had been going well. Now this. She honestly wasn't sure if the doctor's actions had made things better or worse. Which would enrage Riddick more—his girl pleading for strangers to keep him away, or his girl not recognizing him at all? Either was a nightmare.

Kyra had always been a constant in her calculations. Alive or dead, sane or mad, she was supposed to be with Riddick. It had never occurred to Aereon—probably never occurred to anyone—that she might willingly abandon him. To Aereon's surprise, she felt a thread of anger on the Lord Marshall's behalf. Everything he had done since she had known him, he had done for this girl. And this was how he was repaid?

She shook off those thoughts. They weren't helpful. It would take time to consider how this would affect the big picture. For now, there were things she needed to take care of. The doctor was right—Riddick would kill him over this.

"We need to get you out of here. Listen carefully…"


	5. Chapter 5

(AN) Sorry about the incredibly long amount of time between updates. I am working on this, but as I said before, I'm not quite sure what to do with it. I have a vauge idea where I want it to end up, but I don't really know how to get it there. Makes writing it troublesome.

She woke. It was a slow process, gradually clawing her way up from oblivion. She was in a narrow bed—a hospital bed—and the room was very bright. There was an old woman by the bed, watching her intently. She was white—skin, hair, clothes, everything white.

"Welcome back," the woman said.

"What?" she asked, noting that her throat scratched from lack of water. Then she wanted to roll her eyes at herself. '_What_'? That was the best she could do?

The vague question didn't seem to phase the woman. "I'm going to call the doctor," she said calmly. "Then I'll answer your questions. I'm sure you have several."

A moment later there was another woman. She was younger, sharp and efficient looking. Doctor?

"How are you feeling?" the new one asked as she examined the monitors around the bed.

"I'm…" she paused, considering. "Strange. Fuzzy."

"That'll be the drugs. How many fingers?"

"Three. Drugs?"

"That's right. Do you know where you are?"

Sterile. White. Doctor.

"Hospital?"

"Close. What about the year?"

She thought, came up blank. "Don't know," she said with a frown.

"I doubt she knew that before," commented the woman in white.

"That's fine. Can you tell me your name?"

She opened her mouth with a sense of relief—finally something she could be sure about. But she stayed silent. Nothing came to mind, nothing passed her lips. Moving on instinct, she pulled away from the other women.

"What the hell? What the fuckin' hell is going on?"

"I see her vocabulary hasn't been affected," said the white one.

"Relax," the doctor said. "It's alright. You need to take it easy, okay? You shouldn't be exerting yourself this soon after--"

"After what?" she demanded, backing up farther. "What did you do to me?"

Soft, soothing words fell from the doctor's lips. They were drowned out by a voice in her own head.

_Trapped_, it snarled. _Get out, escape, run…_

She tried to obey, but when her feet hit the floor it heaved beneath her. She stumbled a few steps, ignoring wires and needles as they were torn from her skin. Then the colors of the room started to run together, and she fell.

X

"When are you going to tell the Lord Marshall?" asked the new doctor nervously.

Aereon considered refusing to answer the question, but there was a chance this woman would be the focus of at least some of Riddick's wrath.

"It would have been better to tell him immediately, but I needed time to get your predecessor out. At this point, I think it would be best to wait until she's stable and coherent." The Elemental paused. "She will be stable and coherent soon, yes?"

"Unless there are further complications or a relapse. I don't anticipate either. The treatment is working remarkably well."

"She doesn't remember her own name," Aereon pointed out.

"That's not necessarily a bad sign in her case, Aereon."

Not medically, at least. But Aereon remembered the deal she had made with Riddick, remembered the exact words he had used.

"_But if you try, and she don't live, I'll make what the Necros did before look freakin' merciful."_

The body was alive, but Aereon wasn't sure that whatever had made the girl 'Kyra' was still there. She wondered bleakly if Riddick would consider that the same as death.

She didn't want to think of the consequences if he did.

X

"Riddick!" her daughter cried, leaping into the man's arms.

"Hey, kid," Riddick said. He gave her a quick, awkward hug, and set her back on her feet. "Whatcha up to?"

Ziza made a face. "Lessons."

"Oh." He looked up at Lajjun. "Sorry to interrupt."

She shrugged. "Don't worry. We weren't getting very far anyway. _Someone_ isn't in the mood to concentrate."

Ziza babbled at Riddick, oblivious to her mother's exasperation. Riddick, for his part, was used to this by now. He just gazed down at her, making interested noises in the appropriate places.

Watching them, Lajjun smiled slightly. They hadn't seen Riddick in nearly a week, and Ziza had clearly missed the man. She was grinning up at him, bouncing with excited energy.

By contrast, Riddick looked worn. He leaned against the wall, shoulders slumped. His brow seemed permanently furrowed, and there was more stubble on his jaw than he usually let grow.

She'd been hearing a lot of rumors lately. They said the talks were going badly, that the Lord Marshall was working nonstop to prevent a war. It probably didn't help that most the Necros were hoping he would fail. And there were others rumors, too, about Riddick himself. People said he'd been acting strangely—losing track of conversations, responding to comments no one had said.

It was no wonder, if he was running himself ragged. If she could look at Riddick and actually _see_ that he was tired, he must actually be on the verge of collapse…

"I'm fine," he snapped.

Lajjun frowned at him. Had her concern been that obvious?

Ziza's monologue paused. Her face was confused.

"Why wouldn't you be?" she asked.

X

She ached. Everywhere.

She opened her eyes to a bright, sterile room. At least this time it was somewhat familiar. The old woman was gone, and the younger one was facing away from her, frowning down at a computer screen.

"Doctor?" she said. Her voice was still weak.

The other woman jumped, then turned and walked to her bedside.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Like shit. Who are you?"

The woman smiled. "Dr. Mina Tarres, at your service."

She blinked. "That's nice. Who am I?"

"You don't remember?"

"I remember not remembering." She took a deep breath. "I remember flipping out about it."

"That's a good sign," Tarres said encouragingly.

"Right."

The doctor gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"You're my patient. I'm told your name is Kyra."

"Kyra," she repeated, trying it out on her tongue. "Kyra?"

She'd been hoping for recognition, emotion, _anything_. But it was just a word, like any other.

X

"May I talk to you, Riddick?"

He glanced at the Elemental as she fell into step beside him.

"Course. What's up?"

"_How to ensure he doesn't…"_ a voice whispered, then trailed away. Riddick ignored it.

"We have a situation."

He sighed. "Don't we always. Who's fucking up this time?"

"It's Kyra," she said.

Riddick stopped walking.


End file.
